


Fall

by Seulira



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Asexual, F/M, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is asexual, Self-Insert, Slow Burn, game elements are used, no boning, seriously why are you here if you want glowing skeleton dick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7423705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seulira/pseuds/Seulira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were exhausted, and you needed a way out. A way to disappear. Falling into an inky black abyss wasn't exactly what you had in mind, but it happened. Now you need to find a way to save those trapped down there with you, and no one knows how far you're willing to go. Not even yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfic... ever. I got really inspired by TotalSkeletonTrash's "Chill or be Chilled" and Onadacora's "Would That Make You Happy?"  
> (If you haven't read them what are you doing here, go read them.) 
> 
> If there's anything I can improve on, or any errors you catch (I couldn't find anyone to help me edit haha), then PLEASE feel free to comment. 
> 
> This could be considered a prologue, because it's mostly just backstory, but things to pick up, I promise.

   

* * *

 

     You were so tired. You never could fall asleep after these fights so you laid beside him, staring at the ceiling. He was snoring quietly, and you allowed yourself a small sigh. A deep pain shot from your ribs and you winced. Your head felt dizzy as you sat up and rolled the bottom of your old tank top. A bruise bloomed on your side, just under your arm. It was already a deep purple and you knew it would take at least a week to heal. He only bruised you in places no one else would see, but you knew you deserved it. You always did.

     Laying back down, your mind drifted to how your life had ended up like this.

* * *

 

     Your parents both worked at the high school you attended, though you didn’t have them for teachers. You couldn’t get away with anything, but you didn’t mind. You were never the rebellious type. The morning it happened, you were supposed to be in the library printing something out. For whatever reason, you decided to grab breakfast in the cafeteria first. Halfway through the line, you heard a sudden spray of gunshots, a woman’s scream, and one final shot ring through the hallways. Your ears felt stuffed with cotton as you dropped your tray and moved towards the commotion. Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you reached the library.

     Students stood still in front of you, and you were almost frantic as you pushed through them. A boy in a thick coat lay face down just inside the entrance, blood pouring from his head. The gun, inches from his hand, was still smoking. You looked up and immediately felt your knees buckle as you recognized pale faces gaping at you from the floor. You scanned the room, and when your eyes came to rest on your parents… you couldn’t take it. You crawled to the side and emptied your stomach of the few contents it had in it that morning. Several students surrounding you had done the same, and the teachers still left alive in that room rushed to the aid of one another.

     The death of your parents left you feeling empty, and you supposed that was when the fatigue became the only solid thing in your life. You stayed with your uncle because he was your only living relative. You never got a good vibe from him, and when he tried to make a move on you, you ran away. With a tiny bag of food, the clothes on your back, and some trinkets from your parents, you left.

     To anyone that had known you before, you had dropped off the face of the earth. You managed to stay in a sleazy hotel until your money ran out and you were forced to take shelter in a tiny alley. You begged for food nightly for three weeks, when a stranger offered his hand to you, promising a safe place to rest your head. You were hungry, not only for food, but for human contact that didn’t consist of people tossing leftovers at you, pity in their stares. You jumped on the opportunity and before you knew it, you started to feel like yourself again.

     John didn’t look at you with pity. When you caught him staring, it was always with an odd mixture of curiosity and wondering, like you were something precious. You fell so hard, so quickly, you couldn’t have ever noticed the malice hidden under his looks.

     After months of living with him, your regular eating allowed your body to go back to what it was. You were never a small girl. Short, maybe, but you weren’t thin. This didn’t bother you. At least, not until John had made a comment at dinner one evening. It caught you by surprise, and he apologized immediately when you pointed out that it was just how you were. Regardless, a small seed of displeasure had planted itself deep with his words, and was sure to sprout.

     Months went by, and the two of you had started dating. Things were happy. There was so little to worry about, and you had started a job at the library. Though it sometimes reminded you of your past, the memories were easy to avoid. Still, you were worried about anxiety attacks sometimes, so you talked to your boss. He understood completely, and encouraged you to rest in the break room whenever you deemed it necessary. Sometimes, on slow days, your thoughts got the best of you and you spent some time calming down, but you were usually back to being chipper by the end of the day.

     As time went on, however, the attacks grew longer. Though you insisted you just needed to occupy yourself a bit better, your boss grew worried. He called your emergency contact, John, and expressed his concern. When you got home that night, John gently prodded you about the phone call. You sighed, and stared down at your plate.

     “He’s just worried… he doesn’t need to be. I just need to… not let my mind wander at work.” You replied, stirring around your soup with your spoon. Your stomach was starting to knot. You hated confrontation.

      “_______, you said that the last time the attacks were brought up. You said you could keep your mind off of it, and now your boss is calling me,” He pointed out. He didn’t seem angry, but you were still unnerved by the feeling in the air.

      “Just…” he sighed, “keep a hold of yourself, please. I’ve got a lot on my plate, and I can’t worry about _your_ work stuff on top of my own.”

       You nodded and finished your meal before starting on the dishes. You would have to distract yourself in your free time.

     Though you tried to keep your mind from wandering, the attacks came more frequently. Each time, John was informed, and each time, he seemed angrier and angrier. He eventually lost his job and when he did, he blamed you for stressing him out with your now constant anxiety. He didn’t yell at you until later on, and he didn’t hit you until after that.

     You had been with him so long that you hardly noticed the changes in his personality until you were curled up in a ball on the floor and he was kicking you in the ribs almost a full year later. He apologized afterwards (like he always did), but reminded you that you didn’t have anything done by the time he came home from job searching, even though you had gotten off of work early. After you cleaned yourself up in your bathroom, you went to him and apologized for not doing what you were told. You were so hollow and the only thing you could feel was worry that you’d be alone again, that he’d abandon you. Instead, he kissed you and told you it was alright as he led you to bed.

     He fell asleep quickly, and you were left with your thoughts.

* * *

 

     You scratched absentmindedly at an old bruise on your thigh. This fight had been the worst so far, and you felt so broken by it. You had started to realize only a short while ago that what he was doing was wrong, but at the same time the voice at the back of your head was chanting that it was all your fault. John liked to remind you that without him, you would have still been begging for food, huddled in an alleyway somewhere. You realized with a start, that even that idea was more appealing than facing his anger again the next day. But you knew he would find you there, and in any city near enough that you could walk. You needed to disappear completely, and only one thought came to your mind. Mt. Ebott.

     In your free time at the library you had taken to reading old newspapers. On more than one occasion, the headliner was a story of someone disappearing on that mountain. You decided you would scope it out. If it was easy to get lost on, you would come back and get enough supplies to sustain yourself for a while alone in the forest. If it was easy to navigate, and those children were simply unlucky, you would come back and explain that you wanted to take a walk. You did that sometimes.

     You threw on a clean tank top and a long skirt that you knew would be warm. As a last minute thought, you brought your jacket for extra warmth if necessary. You decided to leave right away, in hopes that John would still be asleep when you came back.

     When you got outside, the cool night air soothed any apprehension you had. The walk to the mountain took around an hour, but with your music on the minutes didn’t seem to make any difference. The hike up had you panting by the time it was over, and you stopped to rest against a tree for a brief moment. After that, you felt a bit better, but the realization that you still hadn’t slept tugged at your chest, and your eyes seemed to burn. Rubbing away the exhaustion, you kept walking. You were near the middle, and you found the remnants of an old camp site. Chuckling to yourself, you decided to head towards a thicket of trees that looked as though it hadn’t been disturbed in a long time. You told yourself it was for better coverage, but that little voice at the back of your skull just laughed and claimed you wanted to get lost. To disappear permanently like those before.

      A half hour later, and you could no longer remember how to get out of the thicker part of the forest. It didn’t help that your eyes were blurry from the lack of sleep. Sighing, you looked for a soft place to rest for a little while. A dark patch on the ground looked to be moss, so you stepped down onto it. You felt your stomach lurch as your foot went straight through. Though you pulled your arms back to steady yourself, you could feel your balance tipping forward. Everything became alarmingly clear as the ground raced up at you and suddenly, you were falling.


End file.
